


The Werewolf and the Mummy

by Laurasauras



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bondage, Candles, Collars, Guardiancest, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Haunted Houses, Identity Porn, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Secret Identity, Stridercest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 04:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16485566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurasauras/pseuds/Laurasauras
Summary: In between work and inspiration, D takes a working holiday at a haunted house. He's got a thing for the guy in the werewolf costume.





	The Werewolf and the Mummy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Halloween Creative Challenge for the Stridercest discord server.

The costumes are not flattering. Which is why you signed up to work here in the first place. You find it hilarious to spend your nights dressed up as a mummy and jump out at kids and the money is just good enough to pay for beer, the cheap motel room where you're crashing during the day and food. In that order. You're in between work and inspiration, so that's all you want: a break where you're off the grid and your staff can't find you and drag you back to Hollywood.

So, given that the costumes are so very much not flattering, it's pretty fucking ridiculous that you've gone and gotten a crush on Werewolf. You assume he has a real name. You assume he has a life and hobbies and an address and all sorts of human things. You don't give a shit about any of that. Because Werewolf has gone for the burst-out-of-my-clothes halfway-furry look and damn he hot.

He must have known he was doing this in advance because his shaggy hair and sideburns match perfectly, they have to be natural. It's the other hair that's awfully tacky, furry gloves with claws and stick on hair bursting through his ripped shirt over his shoulders. Somehow it doesn't make him any less appealing. You've seen him putting his fake canines in, which suit his angular face way too well, and his eyes are apparently naturally golden. Not that you can talk about atypical eye colour, your evil, red mummy eyes are gifts from god too.

It's November 1st, and the month long haunted house is officially closed. As a treat to the staff who have endured crappy costumes and reflexive punches and way too much genuine body fluid in amongst the fake shit, you're having a party. A costume party, naturally. And everyone's made the exact same decision as you - you're wearing your regular costume, just like … kinda sluttily.

Same bandages as usual. Just maybe nothing underneath them. Just maybe some strategic loose spots to show off your bicep , maybe the top of your ass, your neck, your abs.

You felt self-conscious on the drive over, but the second you walked in and saw that Frankenstein's Monster now had apparently been granted a ginormous, glittery rainbow cock hanging out of his shorts to go with the mismatchy body part theme, you realised you were fine. Maybe even a little overdressed, seeing as you've been pretty careful about keeping your genitals hidden.

You nearly fucking swoon when you see Werewolf.

He's only wearing underwear. If they even count as that. Just shy of a thong and covered in dog bones. Woof. He has his fake hair on as usual, a collar and leash (your brain makes a noise that sounds like hhhhhhhhnnnnggggghhhhh) and no shirt which shows off the fact that he has gold nipple piercings. You might need a glass of water and a sit down. You definitely need to get rid of the bandages covering your arms, or you're gonna overheat. In November. So what, you have a type. It's him, he's your type. You might be thinking with the kind of brain that doesn't have long-term memory but you're pretty sure you've never been so attracted to anyone ever. 

You don't feel too bad about dropping the extra bandages to the ground that are making your half undressed mummy costume too SFW, it's already littered with Halloween paraphernalia. Welcome to the gun show, nameless Halloween enthusiasts.

He's not talking to anyone because he's not a particularly social guy. You've chatted with Ghost (now with shorter sheet and fishnets) and Devil (wow boobs) on several occasions, but despite being embarrassingly fixated on Werewolf, you've never managed to get more than non-committal noises and in character growls from him. Usually he just gives you the kind of superior glare that would give Colin Firth's Mr Darcy a run for his money. It's kinda hotter this way.

As you stare at him, he tosses back the last of his drink, so you seize the opportunity by grabbing two solo cups worth of beer from the keg and walking over to him.

He stops glaring at his empty cup in favour of glaring at you when you approach him and you have an embarrassing moment where you nearly forget how humans talk in real life. You come so close to asking him to step on you as if he's a dude you saw online and you're really saying it to Rose for comedic effect.

'Hey,' you say instead, holding out one of your cups. 'Want a beer?'

He accepts and does a small bro-nod of thanks.

You nearly introduce yourself, but then you decide it's funner if you don't. You like the anonymity. Not that you're quite successful enough for it to be an issue, but you're not unsuccessful.

'I like your earrings,' you say instead. He has five in the ear you can see, all gold like his nipple piercings.

He grins at you, showing off those wolfy canines, before sliding the tip of his tongue out of his mouth to show another one.

'Oh …' you say breathily. Wow. Get it together. 'Nice. Any others you're hiding from me?'

He turns slightly and points at his shoulder. Oh, he has several of those small circley ones on his shoulders. You think they make out a constellation, but you know shit all about stars. The only reason you have for thinking that is because there are dots making a pattern you don't recognise.

'Can I?' you ask.

'Which one?' he says.

Mmm, deep, raspy voice. He sounds like he smokes too much and maybe works as a lumberjack. Which is ridiculous, he works as a werewolf.

'Shoulder ones?'

He nods. You reach out and stroke them, feeling where skin meets metal. God, why is that so hot to you?

'Can you feel that?' you ask.

'Not with those lady fingers,' he scoffs.

You press a little harder, pulling at the edge of the stud. He smirks.

'You want me to feel it, maybe try these out for size,' he says, rolling the tiny hoop through his left nipple. You watch the ball move from one side to the other under his thumb, transfixed.

'Is that an invitation?' you ask.

He looks you up and down, gaze lingering on your body like he's properly appraising you. Oh no, he knows your one weakness is attention! But for real, he's looking at you like you're a piece of meat and he's a barbecue, all ready to slap you on his belly and make shit sizzle. You want to get all up in his grill. You want to char just a little so that he can't get the flavour out for fucking ever no matter how many brand name barbeque cleaners he buys.

'Yeah, consider yourself invited,' he says. 'See you in Hell.'

In literally any other case than this, you'd probably consider that some kind of sassy rejection. In this one, you know he means he wants you to get jiggy with him in the Hell themed room of the haunted house. Fuck yes. You down your beer and walk away from him, deciding on a roundabout way to get there, just in case people see you walking off together and assume exactly correctly what you're up to. The danger of getting caught makes things even spicier.

As you walk, you consider your inventory. You have an empty solo cup in your hand, your keys, phone and wallet all strapped to your calf with strategic bandaging. You of course have a condom in your wallet, but you're not sure on the expiry. Whatever, even if you just jerk each other off you're going to have a great time. You'll probably jizz in your bandages the second he lets you suck on his nipple piercings anyway.

He's already there by the time you get to Hell. You had to go slow and quiet to avoid disturbing the one other couple that seem to have beaten even your eager ass to the hookup game. He's leaning against the torture rack, arms crossed in a way that you ordinarily would assume is uninviting. But even his imposing figure can't help but be softened by the glow of candle light, and the room is full of candles of various sizes and shapes. Weird that they lit them when the house is supposed to be out of bounds. Unless Werewolf did it.

As you watch, he plucks a thick white candle from its stand and holds it close to his mouth. A moment later, he has a burning cigarette hanging from his lip. You step forward instinctively. Rose would kill you if you smoked yourself, you worked really damn hard to quit, but you can't help it if you pick up a little second hand nicotine.

The candle drips wax onto the floor and you follow the movement with your eyes. You step closer again until you're in grabbing range. If he wanted to grab you, that'd be fine. Even knowing that you're leaving tomorrow and you'll never see anyone here again, you can't help but wait for him to make the first move.

'Come here often?' you joke weakly.

'I was thinking about tying you to this thing,' he says, tilting his head towards the rack. 'But the restraints are all for show, don't want to go breaking them.'

Wow, okay, he is not having the same problem with nerves as you are. Cool. Excellent, even.

'You wanna try for a kiss first?' you say. 'I mean, you're hot as fuck but could be we're crazy incompatible or some shit, gotta try before you buy, you know what I'm sayin'?'

Werewolf rolls his eyes and drops his cigarette to the ground before grabbing a handful of the bandages around your neck and pulling you in for a kiss. You stumble a little before finding your feet again, your hands coming up to catch yourself against his chest automatically. That's not a bad thing, you're very about touching his chest.

The second that you're recovered from the surprise of the kiss and the now skin-contact and the feel of his lips against yours, he's sucking your lower lip into his mouth and biting it. You can feel his fake canines, just that bit longer than they should be and surprisingly similar to the rest of his teeth. You're probably just gonna pretend he's an actual werewolf. You know, because who hasn't dreamed of being fucked stupid by a werewolf?

He presses his lips firmly to yours and then guides your mouth open. You follow his lead happily, meeting his tongue halfway and leaning closer. You certainly aren't getting any farther away with his hand in your bandages. You kiss him more forcefully, ready to stop being so god damn passive already, and he makes a low noise of satisfaction.

You shift in again, and then recoil in pain. The wax from the candle he was still holding for some reason had dripped onto your arm. It sets as you watch and you flick it off. Werewolf looks at the red mark on your arm and then at the candle with a thoughtful expression.

'Nope,' you say, snatching the candle from him.

He looks disappointed. You touch the soft lip of the candle and his eyes flash with interest again. Huh. You're shit with pain, it takes you right out of the mood, but you wouldn't mind giving him some. Not if he's as into it as he looks like he is.

You crowd him a little, so he has nowhere to go, pressed up between the rack and your body. You play with the chain of his leash, not pulling on it or anything, just feeling the weight of metal in your hand (gold again, is he going with the werewolves being allergic to silver thing or is he just really into gold?). He smirks at you a little, like he thinks he's just letting you get away with it. You like that his wolfy tooth is on display when he smiles, even if it's a cocky one. Especially because it's a cocky one.

You raise the candle so that it's level with your eyes and tip it just enough to drip out a tiny amount onto his shoulder. It lands just north of his collarbone and he flinches slightly, but then meets your gaze steadily. Okay, he's challenging you. You tilt it again and this time he hisses when it lands on his chest. You press your finger into it as it hardens, leaving an impression of your print behind.

'You like that?' you ask.

He smirks at you and you realise how porny that sounded. You actually want to know, though, you don't know him well enough to know if he's happy with you tying him up and roughing him up a bit. Actually, yeah, you're definitely tying him up.

'I like it fine,' he says. 'What's your name? I ain't calling you Mummy.'

You laugh and more wax drips from the candle with the movement. Whoops. You blow gently on his chest as a kind of apology.

'Uh …' you say. 'Shit, man, I kinda liked the nameless thing.'

'I am not calling you Mummy,' he repeats firmly. His eyes look amused, though.

'What am I calling you then?' you say, dodging the question artlessly.

His jaw tightens and you realise you're not the only one keeping things close to the chest. You meet his eyes and drip more wax on him. It feels like an interrogation.

'Strider,' he grits out.

'Good boy,' you tell him.

You kiss him, rewarding him with what you meant to be a classy level of tongue. He groans into your mouth and turns it filthy again, gripping you and kissing you with a desperation that has you shoving your hips to his. He grinds against you deliciously, and there's much less separating you than you're used to at this point in the encounter. Even though you were pretty careful about how you arranged your bandages, they're still thinner than pants and he's straining against the sorry excuse for underwear he's wearing.

You pull back enough to gather your thoughts and then pull him with you before slamming him back into the centre of the rack. He goes a lot more willingly than you would have thought. Poor dude. Built like a fucking tank but wants someone to throw him around. You'll happily give him what he wants.

He's right though, the restraints on this thing are entirely for show. The left cuff is broken right in half and the right one isn't in much better shape. Luckily, you're covered in bandages. You can spare a few. You don't exactly want to be dressed, anyway.

You pull at a leg bandage you know is loose and wrap it around his wrist several times. He watches you closely, but he doesn't fight. You loop the bandages through the grates of the rack and fasten it off. He tugs and his arm muscles strain against it. Before you can entertain any serious thoughts about licking sweat from his bicep, the rack creaks. He freezes and raises an eyebrow at you.

'Strider, I think you've gotta learn some restraint,' you say.

He groans and licks at his lip impatiently. You catch another sight of his tongue stud. You're a big fan. You pick up his leash again and loop the leather handle bit through another grate, one that had a break in the metal. He's got movement there, but short of unbuckling his collar he's gonna struggle to get out without your help. 

'You know if you tie me up completely I'm not gonna be able to touch you,' he says, stroking down your chest to emphasize his point. 

You hum thoughtfully as his fingers dip under the bandages around your hips and then run along them, as if trying to find where they end. You're about to tell him that you've tucked yourself in pretty carefully when he finds the tail end of an important bandage and suddenly your dick is out.

'Nice,' he says appreciatively. 

He steps closer to you, reaching the end of his lead and not moving his bound wrist. He strokes up your length as his thigh brushes against your balls. You grab his waist for support and lean into him as he strokes you again. 

You drop the candle and hiss as wax jumps from it onto your feet before shoving his underwear down and grabbing him in return. 

He moans and your stomach swoops at the first real sign of proper pleasure he's given you. He keeps his expressions pretty neutral, but the reward of getting him to make noises you don't think he wants to be making is more than worth it. You really shouldn't want him noisy. The party isn't that far away and you're not the only one who has thought of coming here for a hookup. On the other hand, you're never going to see these people again and you couldn't possibly be ashamed of getting with someone as hot as Werewolf. Strider. Nah, he's still Werewolf in your head. 

He hooks his ankle around your calf, pulling your leg closer to him until you're both in the kind of position where you can grind against each other's thighs. He's taller than you by an inch or two (maybe three, no one's counting) so you find that your lips feel almost magnetically attracted to his neck, just above that collar, when he pushes his head back against the rack. You bite him, encouraged by more growly moans. With the makeup on people around here, a couple of bruises aren't going to rate notice. You're just gonna have to make them noticeable by sheer volume. 

You grab at his ass, feeling the firmness, the squeeziness. God, you love butts. And he's got a nice one, you've been admiring it for about half an hour longer than you've been admiring his face, which has been a pretty major part about how you've spent the week. 

'I want you,' Strider growls. 

You press his dick into your stomach and stroke it as you meet his eyes. 

'You got me,' you say.

He laughs under his breath and pulls you closer by that ankle around your leg, gripping you tight by the neck with the hand that isn't tied to the rack. 

'No,' he says, his voice clearer and less slurred than it has been all night, like he wants to make sure you get what he means this time. 'I want you to fuck me.'

Your dick jumps against his thigh and he glances down at it, smirking, before meeting your eyes again. 

'Yeah, fuck. Do you have a condom?'

'Devil kept some stashed in here, check the drawer.'

He's just a fling, you're not gonna get weird and possessive about how he knows that when you haven't even seen him talk to Devil and what the hell does Devil have that you don't, anyway? Apart from massive tits, that is. You bite him on the lower lip before you step out of his arms and towards the broken antiquey looking cabinet that was probably taken from the reject room at Ikea and spray-painted. You open the drawers and can't help but let out a low impressed whistle. Yeah, there are a buttload (lol) of condoms here, but there's also a decent collection of those tiny hotel room liquor bottles and assorted lighters and pipes. And a tube of lube that's squeezed up like someone's tried to get almost every last drop out. 

You grab the lube and a condom and open the packet as you walk back to him. You drop the foil to the ground, shove the lube tube in your teeth and roll the condom on. 

'Hot,' Strider says, dryly. 

You wink at him. He raises an eyebrow and his lips pinch together slightly like he's trying not to smile. 

'Damn, it actually is. That's really fuckin' unfair of you.'

You take the tube out of your mouth and lick the dryness from your lips as you pop the cap. 

'There's not an abundance here,' you say. 

'All yours,' he says. 'You strong enough for this? There's a table in Frankenstein's room. Or the floor, but then I dibs not having my back on the ground. I'm classy like that.'

'Fuck you, I lift,' you say, mock-offended. 'But ... uh, maybe you could turn around and then I wouldn't have to prove it and you could just take my word for how I could totally do that?'

He laughs at you and you grin back. Oh no, you're starting to really like him. It'd be really nice if you could just have a fling, just one time, without wanting to keep them after. You chuck the useless lube bottle on the ground, having squeezed all it has to offer from it. 

'You always this smooth?'

'When you're as rich as me you don't need to be smooth,' you say, your voice flat with irony. It's true, but from his angle, working in this place, it probably seems like a very dry joke. 

'Makes two of us,' he says with a smirk. 'Do I have to untie myself? Kinda breaks the illusion that I'm at your mercy.'

'C'mere,' you say, standing just out of his reach. 

He steps forward obediently, the collar digging into his neck and you kiss him sweetly before slapping him on the ass. It makes a really awesome noise, which makes you grin in satisfaction and Strider let out a shaky breath. Wow, he's really got a thing. You're not sure you want to examine how much it makes you want to hit him more. Turned on dudes are hot, you're sure that's all there is to that one.

You untie his wrist as he strokes your hair out of your face so he can kiss along your jaw and up to your ear. He sucks on your lobe gently, not a hint of teeth and you shiver at the intimacy. God, he's got you sussed out too. 

'Turn around,' you tell him, your voice coming out rough and deep. You don't sound like you're joking, not like yourself at all. You're okay with it when he obeys immediately. 'Hands on the rack,' you say. 'Lower.'

He chooses a lower down spot and you find yourself wondering how far he'd bend for you if you asked. Demanded. No, the more important thing to think about is how fucking nice his ass is. And how the lower position has his leash not quite tense, still tied to the rack. 

You spread his cheeks and thumb gently from his hole to his balls. He groans appreciatively, so you do it again, this time touching his balls and reaching for his dick. 

'Dude,' he says. 'Don't make me beg for your dick.'

'D,' you say. 'You're not calling me "dude" during sex, you can call me D.'

'Better than "Mummy",' he mutters. 'Come on, D, fuck me.'

'Will if you call me "Mummy".'

He hangs his head and you watch his shoulders shake with absolutely silent laughter. Or crying, you don't know the guy that well, you might have pushed him over the edge.

You decide you're not gonna give him any more reasons to run screaming and line your dick up with his ass. He goes still and then you watch his back rise and fall with a slow breath. 

'You cool?' you double check.

'Please,' he whispers. 

You lean over him and press a kiss to his spine before pushing in. He's really fucking tight, so you have to go slow. You'd want to anyway, it feels fucking amazing and you need to keep your head somewhat focused. If you let go, if you just start humping him like every nerve in your body is screaming at you to do, you'll come shamefully quickly.

Instead you bury yourself as deep in him as you can go and press against him with all of you that you can. His leg shakes slightly against yours before he straightens it. You stroke your hands down his back, up his sides, around onto his chest and down again. You like the feeling of him breathing against you, like how you can feel it get more shallow and less regular as your hands get closer to his dick. 

You ghost a hand over him teasingly and your stomach swoops when you feel how hard he is. You keep your hand moving, back over his chest to play with his nipple piercings. He pushes back into you a bit more, his ass tightening around your cock. You can take a hint.

You straighten up and pull almost completely out of him, still going slow. He drops his head and the leash chinks as it reaches full length. You push back into him faster and he lets out a low moan. 

'Come on,' he urges.

You close your eyes against the intoxicating sight of his ass taking your dick and start to thrust into him with more intensity. The chain of his leash chinks gently against itself as you move, but not so loudly that you can't hear the slap of skin against skin or yours and Strider's breaths, both of which are getting louder the harder you fuck him. 

Even without looking, it's too hot, you can't drag this out and you can't remember why you'd want to. You want to come. But you want him to come first. You reach around him and start pumping his dick, trying to keep it in rhythm with your hips. 

'Fuck,' he gasps. His collar is tight against his neck, his fingers white against the grating of the torture rack and his cock is throbbing in your hand. You feel it when he starts to come and let go of his dick in favour of his hips, fucking him harder and faster so you can catch up with him. It doesn't take long for you to fall over the edge once your focus is entirely on your own pleasure.

You thrust once more, gently, as you come down from your high. You're both panting pretty heavily. You pull out and unhook the end of Strider's leash for him, holding the leather in your hand rather than giving it to him just yet. You don't want him to just leave.

He straightens up and stretches his shoulders before leaning into you. You put your arms around him, loosely because he's still catching his breath.

'Don't suppose I could get your number, D?' he says. 

You bite your lip. You're supposed to be off the radar. This life and your life in Hollywood are supposed to be separate. But on the other hand, it's just a phone number. You could text him when you're bored in meetings next week, could call him when you can't sleep and listen to him tell you about whatever he does when he's not a werewolf. And when Rose finds out and disapproves, you can throw your phone in the ocean. 

'Yeah,' you say. 'I'm not from here, though, repeat performances might be hard to secure.'

He sighs. 

'Had to be a catch. Eh, I move around a bit, maybe you can put me up for a night if I happen across LA.'

'I didn't say where I was from,' you say carefully.

'Neither did I, bet you know I'm a Texas boy though.'

You breathe out a laugh of relief. Yeah, you guess you do have the accent now. You let go of him so you can fish your phone from your ankle bandages and hand it to him so he can put his number in it. He pulls his underwear back on before taking it from you and you look hopelessly at the mess you've made of your costume. You manage to get your ass and dick covered by the time he is finished with your phone. You look at the contact name. Bro Strider with the dog and eggplant emojis next to it. You smirk and text him the word "sup" so he has your number too. And then "send nudes" for good measure. 

'You know, I've got a shitty motel room. We could hit the store for beer and powerade, go back and see what happens before I leave?'

He grins at you. 

'Yeah, sounds good,' he says. 

You still have his leash in your hand. You tug on it playfully and he follows you. 


End file.
